


Exorcise with a sprinkle of death

by ashlewinchester



Series: Die, Rinse and Repeat [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amused Sam Winchester, Angst, Annoyed Dean Winchester, Crowley Being an Asshole, Demonic Possession, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Non-Consensual Touching, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sam Fluff, Series, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:19:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashlewinchester/pseuds/ashlewinchester
Summary: The reader saved Sam Winchester's life, at the cost of their own. Cas unable to be there personally, sends Crowley. And we all know how much the King of Hell loves to help, out the kindness of his heart.The guys are forced to relive the readers death, time and time again. No matter when the reader appears and the steps taking to keep them safe. The sacrifice is always the same, the reader's life. To make matters worst, the reader doesn't remember the Winchesters.





	1. This is not the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> After binge watching Supernatural for several WEEKS, I had a series of Winchester filled dreams. As delightfully interesting as they were, they always ended with my death.... Naturally right?  
> Here are the stories of my imagination.

 

> “Hey y/n look at me, we’ll get you help.” Your lashes weighed your lids as you struggled to focus on a pair of multi colored eyes. “I’ll get you help” the agony consuming his voice broke your frantic heart with each beat. Your eyes never left his face, fearing that if you stopped studying his features you’d drift away. So instead, you took inventory of the handsome man holding you together. 
> 
> There was stubble that outlined his sharp ticking jaw, “I’m here, hang on.” His pained dimpled smile “There you are.” Your (e/c) eyes captured his, and you allowed yourself to follow the pattern of greens, browns and flecks of gold. His straight nose, his long chestnut hair hiding his brow.
> 
> There was a faint THUD followed by an echoed “Sam!” and heavy footsteps. “In here, we’re in here!” his words vibrated through his chest, lulling your lids. “Y/n” the unexpected call snapped your eyes back to his. “See, you hear that y/n, Dean is coming. We’ll get you out of here.” His soft lips brushed your forehead as he whispered his promise.
> 
> “Shit, Sammy.” The heavy footsteps came to an abrupt stop. Unable to fully turn your head, you settled for dragging your eyes from the man in front of you, to the one at the door. Peering out the corner of your eyes “Hi there” you murmured. The surprise arrival of a well-dressed man in black caused a ripple of dizziness, forcing your lashes to flutter in hopes of refocusing your vision. “Hello Squirrel, Moose.”
> 
> Hmm… English, you thought before you notice the tension in the arms cradling your now cold body. “What the hell do you want Crowley?” glancing up at the man holding you, you could feel the rage boiling as he seethed. Long gone were his gentle features.
> 
> “Now is not the time” his brother spoke, brushing past the overdressed man to kneel next to you. “Hey Kid.” The back of his large hand brushed your cheek and you leaned into his caress. Your lips tugged, giving his green eyes a weak smile. His calloused fingers placed wayward strands of your (h/c) hair behind your ear. As your breathing became ragged, the overwhelming metallic taste of blood forced a few bloody coughs.
> 
> “Oh my, it would appear that the little minx has bitten off more than she can chew.”
> 
> “Who is he?” you feebly questioned the brothers. “Dead” Sam growled as he loosened his hold on you to stand. “Sam, please.” Those two words from your trembling lips dissolved the warrior and returned his tender mien.
> 
> “A mutual feathered friend sent me, thought you could use some aid.”
> 
> “Cas is not your friend” Dean stood and glared at the King of Hell.
> 
> “I’m sensing I’ve struck a nerve.”
> 
> Ignoring Crowley’s comment, Sam was once again irritated “Cas sent you? Why would he do that?”
> 
> Dean expelled sharply before taking a knee at your side. “I’m sorry about earlier, and being a dick.” He whispered into your (h/c) hair. His lips brushed your right temple before he placed a soft kiss. “Do it.” His thumb swiped a stray tear from your cheek. “Do it!” he repeated, his voice raised with his legs.
> 
> “Dean… No. Why?” Sam’s protest was ignored and Dean refused to look at you and his brother.
> 
> “Sammy” Dean’s voice was defeated, and the remainder of your already broken heart crumbled.
> 
> “Y/n I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here. Okay?” Sam carefully lowered your numb body to the floor, then pushed his lips firmly onto the inside of your left wrist. Your eyes lowered and you inhaled slightly deeper than before. After a few shallow breaths, you lifted your lashes and gave him a faint nod.
> 
> Fighting your hazy vision, you watched as he moved to stand aside his brother. The man they call Crowley outstretched his arms, straightened his back, and lifted his head. The last thing you saw was red smoke pour out of his mouth and crashing down on yours.


	2. Don't worry boys, I'm safe in her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is sent to help, but it's Crowley. Honestly, you can't expect The King of Hell to be all work and no pleasure. How far will he go to torture the boys for his entertainment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more like a half chapter.. I am working on a "what happened on the inside" that would actual complete chapter two, but it would make it much longer. Okay now I am rambling. Please enjoy.

Crowley’s meat suit collapse to the weathered carpet and Sam’s long stride carried him over the motionless man. Dean turned his back, unwilling to watch as a red tainted soul engulfed your lifeless body.

When your body jerked to life with a loud gasp the older Winchester spun on his heels. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be inside y/n” Crowley paused as he traced your fingers up your thighs and across your stomach. “But I” your fingers slowly caressed your ribs “never imagined” your fingers lightly stroked your breast “it would feel so”

“Knock it off” Sam demanded

Crowley stopped exploring your body with your hands. “All business I see,” he met Sam’s tight lipped scowl with a mischievous grin. “Fine. Well, let’s see what we have here, shall we” he rose. After examining your limbs, he peeled the neckline of your shirt out and glanced down. “Hmmm,” with a raised eyebrow and tilt of your head. 

Dean cleared his throat and Crowley allowed the shirt to fall.

“What? She said I could peek.”      

“Oh no, this isn’t weird at all.” Dean crossed his arms over his taut chest. “How bad is it?”

Crowley looked down at his meat suit sprawled on the floor “Would it have killed you two to catch me? There’s a chair right there,” you pointed to the battered and stained high backed chesterfield in the corner. “On second thought” your face scrunched in disgust, “The floor will do.”

“Crowley” Sam seethed stepping forward.

“Relax Moose, she’s fine. Nothing fatal, but a touch dramatic if you ask me.” Your body flinched “Ow,” Crowley yelped.

“Wait, what was that?” Dean unfolded his arms and pointed at you, brow raised with worry.

“Nothing, she’s fine.”

“Okay. If you’re done, get out.” Sam’s shoulders tensed as he moved closer.

“That’s what she said” Crowley quipped

Dean chuckled “What?” he defended his amusement to his younger brother, “It was funny.”

“Well while you’re enjoying yourself, there’s a demon in y/n” Sam was now facing his smirking brother.

“The King of Hell” Crowley corrected, your hands waved down your body. “Besides, she made me say it” he whined.

“Wait. She can hear us?” Dean’s heavy hand landed on your shoulder and he lowered his head, green eyes searching for you.    

“And see you too big boy,” giving him an obvious wink, you nudged Dean’s side.

“Y/n talk to us, how are you feeling in there? Dean’s thumb slightly massaged your shoulder.

“Not as good as you look,” this time you gave him a subtle wink.

Dean chuckled, “Who’s possessing who here?”

“I don’t know, she’s very... Ow, enough with the pinching.” Crowley’s frustration flittered across your face as you lurched to the side. Both brothers smirked at Crowley’s annoyance with his unruly meat suit.

A few seconds passed and you hadn’t moved. Your feet were planted, and your (e/c) eyes distant. “Dean” the younger Winchester nodded towards you.

“Y/n, Crowley, Hey!” Dean leaned in and clapped his hands loudly, “Focus” he snapped.

Your eyes blinked and Crowley let a sigh of exasperation slip through your lips. “You two are aware of how demanding she is? Ah!” You raised your hand in protest, “No more pinching or I will allow you to hemorrhage on this filthy floor.” Crowley’s warning sent apprehension through the brothers.

“Crowley” Sam called through clenched teeth.

“One second Moose, we need to chat.”

“Crowley” Dean growled

“Can’t you two see,” your voice escalated “we’re in the middle of something?” Your eyes rolled, followed by a sigh, then your tone was laced with sugar “I apologize. Mind your manners, please”

“Oh, I’ve had it with this” Dean pulled out his phone. “Cas better get his” a flutter of wings interrupted Dean. “Cas what the hell man, Crowley. You sent Crowley?” anger flashed in his green eyes. The angel’s eyes narrowed and he stepped over Crowley’s discarded body. “Would you rather watch y/n die?” he stopped in front of Dean, squared his shoulders, and challenged his glare “Again?”   

Sam cleared his throat, “Cas, please do something.”

“Of course” Cas’ eyes flickered to Sam’s before he walked to your motionless body. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since you gave The King of Hell permission to jump y/n’s bones.”

Cas pivoted his torso, his brooding expression landing on Dean, “I came as soon as I could.”

“You hear that Sammy? He came as soon as he could”

“Dean” his brother’s voice pleaded. “Cas, what’s happening? Is y/n okay?” Sam’s brow wrinkled with concern.

“I don’t sense any turmoil, so yes. I guess.” Cas raised the hem of your bloody shirt and pressed his warm palm on your deep wound. A flash of blue washed over your midriff, knitting the bruised skin.

“You guess?” Dean questioned the angel’s back

“Yes Dean, without sufficient information, I can’t be certain” The angel’s monotone voice traveled over his shoulders. “Crowley,” he called while his blue eyes roamed your vacant features.

“Finally! Your angel is here,” boredom seeped into Crowley’s words. “But, before I pull out,” a glint of mischief in your (e/c) eyes, you bit your bottom lip as you eyed the taller Winchester. “Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?” maintaining Sam’s hazel eyes, you gave him a coquettish smile. “Someone has been a very naughty girl,” Crowley teased. “Moose, would you like to know what goes on up here?" The King of Hell tapped your index finger to your temple, then continued "The things y/n wishes you would do to her?... It's surprisingly kinky"

Sam gaped, swallowed, and then cleared his throat.

The older Winchester moved in front of his younger brother, breaking the trance. “Okay that’s enough. Cas buddy, work your angel mojo and get that sonofabitch the hell outta her.”

“Dean,” Crowley moaned “Dean would you like to know,” you sauntered closer, now toe to toe. “How helpful you’ve been?” Your eyes searched his, before traveling down to his mouth. Leaning in you spoke against his soft full lips, “How many times you’ve helped y/n release?” lifting your lashes, and returning your attention back to his emerald eyes, smiling wickedly.

Dean let out a vexed sigh “Cas, do something,” he urged, taking a step back. 

“Cas,” your (e/c) eyes bore into Dean’s now darkened irises. “Don’t think your angelic grace exempts you from y/n lustful fantasies.” Your eyes darted over to Cas’ “Pardon me,” you brushed passed the older Winchester, turning so that you could see the three agitated men before you. “Who should go first?” you pointed at each man. “Oh, do you,” Crowley found his victim “remember when”

“Sammy” Your plea blended with Dean’s, and drowned Crowley’s words.

“Exorcizamus te,” Sam closed the gap between the two of you and you smiled weakly. His determined hazel orbs focused on yours, “Omnis immundus spiritus.” Your chest heaved “Thank you,” you whispered. Sam nodded and continued “Omnis satanica potestas”

“Don’t bother, Moose,” Crowley snarled, ending the exorcism.

Your shoulders jerked and your arms flailed as he smoked out. 

  

 

 

  


	3. It's all fun and games until Crowley reminds you that he is The King of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley to the rescue? Or not.  
> Is The King of Hell capable of having a soft spot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part two of chapter two. After writing chapter two I thought there should be more. So here's chapter two 2.0/ chapter 3 lol.

Your hand snapped down, smothering the annoying buzzing from the ancient kitchen timer. It’s time for an upgrade you thought, but after glancing around the bunker's kitchen, it fits.

Oven mitt in hand, you paused, and your breath suspended in your lungs. That was only my imagination, right? You wondered before pulling the quiche from the oven.

Again, you paused, something was definitely off. Quietly placing the pastry on the cooling rack, the hair on the back of your neck sensed it too. Your heart began thumping erratically, but your breath sailed in and out smooth and steady.

Instinct brought your hands to the small of your back, but your waist band was empty. “Shit,” you muttered, then quickly kneeled. Lifting your pants leg, you were thankful for your back up piece.

Now certain that those were footsteps, you stood slowly, and positioned yourself in the direction of the intruder. One deep breath in through your nose and out of your mouth, you and your Diamondback380 were ready.

“Fucking bastard,” you mouthed to yourself.... heavy steps, short gait, lurking about, in dress shoes… What the hell is he doing here? “Come on out Crowley, I’m not in the mood for cat and mouse.” Why is everything a damn game to him, you wondered out loud. The tension eased down your back, but you didn’t lower your gun.

Crowley let out a low chuckle “Ever the cleaver little minx. So I take it you remember me?” His pace slower than molasses in January. You rolled your eyes and he continued, “Do you remember trying to murder me?” 

“In here, I remember everything…. You’re the King of Hell. Oh and fuck off, because you actually killed me. Now show yourself, demon.” Your tone was flat, voiding any emotion.

Arrogance wrapped in an expensive black suit, stood before you with a smug grin, “Darling, that was a lifetime ago.” Which was closer to the truth than you’d care to admit. Your death toll trumped Sam’s but wasn’t close to Dean’s.  

Crowley's smirk never wavered “Let’s call it water under the bridge. Besides that pea shooter you’re holding, is merely a prop your imagination conjured so you would feel”

Shooting the tile above his head silenced him and plaster rained down like confetti. “You were saying,” now you were the one with the eat shit grin, relishing at the flicker of disquiet in his eyes. You tucked your gun in the back of your waist band you return to the cooling rack. “Are you hungry?”

“Only if you’re on the menu?” He was always all charm, before he’d strike. “What’s your angle, Crowley?” No longer able to hide your exasperation, you watched as he walked over to the counter.

“All business. I wonder… who do you get that from?” He quipped.

Absentmindedly you replied “My daddy,” and instantly regretted it.

“And who are you calling daddy these days? Would that be Moose or… Not Moose? I’m not here to jud”

Grabbing an inch of his skin between your index and thumb, he yelp and you smiled.

“I do not like when you pinch me!” The King of Hell spat and you giggled, “Yea, well I do not like when you talk, but here we are.” You gave him a wink.

Crowley eyed you as you cut and plated two slices of quiche. And you couldn’t help but notice that he was the perfect distance for a good stabbing, you also couldn’t hide your smirk. “You’re thinking of stabbing me aren’t you?” He quizzed with a raised eyebrow.

Pulling the corners of your mouth down, you shook your head, “Nah, I would dream of it Crowley.”

Nodding towards the TV that sat on the table, “Do you mind?” And the black suited sass turned on the television. “Thanks,” you placed the plates on the table and Crowley motioned for you to sit first. Yep, he wanted something, this wasn’t good.

Seconds later, you and the King of Hell were watching the Winchesters on the screen. It was surreal, like playing a VR game. Something you weren’t a stranger to, but seeing their solemn faces made your heart ache. Right on que, Crowley stifled the pain when he forced your hands to grope your body.

In one silent motion, the barrel of your DB380 nuzzled the very thing he sold his soul for. “I will empty this magazine.” You gritted through a sugary smile.

“Bollocks,” he raised both hands in surrender and you housed your weapon, replacing it for a fork. “A glance then?”

“A glance,” you scoffed, shaking your head, “Alright. One... quick peek, or me stabbing you won’t be just a thought.”

“Oh my,” he dropped the neckline “You my pet are exquisite, they” he swatted your hand away. “Would you stop,” he glared at your beaming smile. “Stop pinching me,” he yelled.

“I am not your pet, demon.” The two of you stared at each other, until you broke the silence, “Tell him, that’s what she said.” Crowley mirrored your smile and complied. Your laughter filled the air and Crowley grinned, basking in the sound. It was times like this that you enjoyed his company. The rare occasions when you could relax and be yourself, carefree.

“I have a proposal for you. Your life for theirs," he sliced through your amusement. "You Winchesters are the same, martyrs, itching to sacrifice yourselves.”

Unable to deny his words, you said the first thing that popped into your head “That’s not my last name.”

“Association” he replied and you nodded, okay, “Fair enough.”

“Are they always this worrisome?” his eyes tracking the movement on the screen. “Squirrel is quite needy, one moment, my pet”

“DAMMIT!” He howled, this time he caught your hand. The twinge from Crowley’s thick fingers grasping your wrist was unbearable. He yanked your arm, forcing you to his side, his wrathful breath ragged against your cheek. “No more pinching," he whispered, "Or I will allow you to hemorrhage on this filthy floor.” Crimson eclipsed his once brown orbs and you willed yourself to breathe. 

You knew that threat was directed towards Sam and Dean, and there was no way you could stomach watching them shatter over your bleeding corpse. But you were also unwilling to give Crowley the upper hand. “Do it,” your smile met your eyes, challenging his vermilion glare.

Daring the King of Hell was a dangerous gamble, and you silently prayed that he wouldn’t call your bluff. “Y/n,” his brown eyes were back, “My patience is wearing thin,” his susurrated tone swept over your skin and you gulped down your fear. You refused to falter under his intense glower and his predacious gaze that bore into your (e/c) eyes.

You noticed a glint of lenience in Crowley’s features before he could recover. It was hardwired in you to antagonize the King of Hell, knowing that he could kill you at any moment but wouldn’t thrilled you. At least he wouldn’t murder you again. Sure he’s a sadistic douchey asshole that will risk your life, but for the most part you were safe. Well, safe-ish.  Somewhere down the line you somehow managed to miraculously burrow yourself into his blackened soul.

“Your life for theirs, y/n,” he released your wrist and helped you back into your seat. “One day, I’ll ask for your life…. as tribute,” the demon smiled at his Hunger Game reference. “In return,” he paused and gently nudged your chin up, eyes studying yours. You hadn’t notice that they fell into your lap as you fiddled with your fingers. “I will ensure their safety. As long as what they are hunting is detriment to me and my kingdom… I.e., not me. I will assemble a convert team to ensure their wellbeing. Keeping the things that go bump in the night away from your” his expression appeared bilious “Precious boys,” he sneered.

Wait, was he? Could the King of Hell be jealous? You shook the thought away, don’t play into his hand you told yourself.

 “Can’t you two see,” his voice escalated “we’re in the middle of something?” His voice jerk you from your delusional idea.

“Crowley,” you placed a hesitant hand on his arm, “Don’t yell at them.” He gave you a once over and soften. Wait, did he just apologize? To the Winchesters? Your eyes widen with surprise. Oh this wasn’t good you thought, now you’ll wait. The anvil will drop.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Okay, yea," you sighed. "Okay. But whether I am dead or not, the deal remains,” you fought to take control of the shitty situation. “And Cas, he’s to be included under this umbrella of safekeeping.” Your eyes betrayed you, revealing your vulnerability.

“Deal. Only one thing left my pet,” grabbing both your wrist in one hand, he pulled you into his lap. “Sealing this deal,” he placed his free hand inside the back of your shirt, and tossed your backup piece across the kitchen floor.  

Closing your eyes you thought, great there goes my protection. Breathe, you got this, you repeated to yourself. You were grateful your heartbeat remained stable.

His meaty finger created small circles on your lower back. Goosebumps appeared with each loop, causing you to shiver. He lowered his face to your neck, trailing his nose against your collarbone. Crowley inhaled deeply, “Your uncorrupted soul is mouthwatering.”  

Your heart no longer listened to your calming mantra, instead it banged loudly, feeding the demon your fear. But you were still in control of your breaths. So you willed yourself to focus on that, breathing, 1-2-3 in and 3-2-1 out fragile but constant.

 His fingers slithered up your spine and you lost the battle of maintaining your breaths, “Crowley,” you gritted through your teeth, squirming.

“Shhh,” he moaned before nipping your shoulder. “Darling, you might want to stop gyrating in my lap.” Those words turned your body into stone and your breath hung in the air. Long gone was the defiant chick with her witty quips and overall badassery.  Now you only wished to keep your tears at bay and any sounds from spilling from your lips.

“Don’t worry y/n,” his mouth grazed your ear as his hand massaged the nape of your neck. His fingers dug into your scalp and you swallowed your scream. “Unlike your boys, this won’t be tender and I can assure you, you will not enjoy it.”

Crowley laced his fingers and fisted your (h/c) hair, before jerking your head back. A stifled screech escape your lips as pain radiated through your skull. You felt yourself crumbling as hot tears pricked your eyes.

Do. Not. Fucking. Cry. You demanded of yourself. Don’t give him the satisfaction of your tears. Your breaths was loud and quick but it kept your tears from tumbling.

He smiled “You really are breathtakingly beautiful, especially when you’re at my mercy.” His lips seared onto yours, stealing your next breath. His tongue searched for entry but your lips denied him. Crowley tightened his hold and his canine pierced your bottom lip, filling your mouth with blood.

 His scarlet stained teeth matched his eyes, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, my pet.”

The hard way, you thought, I will always choose the hard way. Returning the favor, you kissed him back opening your mouth knowing he’d seize the opportunity. His tongue darted in only to be caught by your teeth. You clamped down, snatching your hands from his grip when he bellowed. Instantly your left hand clutched his face. His chin rested between your thumb and index. Your nails vice gripped his cheeks on either side. While your right hand quickly retrieved your urban pal from your back pocket.

Holding the serrated side to his jugular, fury coursed throughout your body, “If you ever fucking tou”

“Crowley,” a gravelly tone interrupted.

“Castiel,” your voice lost its edge and your eyes darted to the TV.

“Finally! Your angel is here,” Crowley stood and you slipped from his lap. “Let’s have a bit of fun, shall we?” Crowley pulled a black leather bound journal from his jacket pocket.

“You bastard,” you mutter, and there goes the anvil.

Crowley had you right where he wanted. Defenseless. Fraught. Crushed. Dispirited.

There was only one person that could end this, “Sammy,” you whispered before your tears trickled.

He won.

This time, his smug smile didn’t reach his eyes, “We’re done here,” his rueful expressions disappeared with him.    

 

 

 

  

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, its 2am but my mind would let me rest. Please excuse any grammatical errors, I will get to them later. But for now, I'll sleep, or at least try. I hope you enjoyed it :)


	4. Joyride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has safely returned from their subconscious. But is no closer to discovering their past with the Winchesters. In a moment of desperation she pisses Dean off and amuses Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible at summaries. I seriously never know what to say. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading this far :)

All at once your memories were ripped from you. The one’s that made you smile, the one’s that created tears, the one’s that told you exactly why you were safe with Sam, Dean and Cas…. all gone. Struggling to hold on to both your equilibrium and the contents of your stomach. Your mind and heart no longer overflowed with a mixture of joy and sorrow. Instead you were jolted from a painful dreamlike state and forced back into a world of confusion and helplessness.

Your eyes were wide in horror as you watched as red smoke left your body and floated above you. The air was stale, reeking of mildew and the last remembrance of home drifted away with the red vapors. Your sight blurred from the sudden veil of unshed tears, the nape of your neck throbbed and your chest heaved rapidly. Your hands smoothed over the clean, dry shirt, fingers trembling as you lift the hem only to find mended flesh. Unable to contain the shock any longer, your world tilted, sending your body slowly crumpling to the floor.

Although you are fully aware that you’re falling, you're unable to prevent it. Accepting your fate, you braced yourself for the pending crash. “Y/n” your name was chorused from what sounded like miles away. Both brothers and the angel raced to your side, and a pair of thewy arms wrapped around you. “See, I’m still here, like I told you.” Sam reassured, scooping your body midair, he pulled you into his broad chest.

Crowley stood and cleared his throat, “No need to thank me, I merely dropped everything to save y/n’s life.”

Hearing Crowley’s voice was like a defibrillator to your senses. Your hands clenched in tight fists and you swung wildly. “Y/n you’re safe, stop fighting me,” The hold on you constricted, pinning your arms to your frame. The pressure and restriction of your limbs only added to your fit of terror. “Dean get him out of here,” Sam yelled, his cold glare made Crowley smile.   

“Well, my work here is done,” He chuckled at Sam’s attempt to calm you. “And boys, the next time you need help,” he paused to brush the dust from his suit. “Don’t.”

“Y/n it’s me, calm down. No one is going to hurt you. Breathe, breathe.” Sam’s hushed tone soothed your fears.

“Castiel, I’ll be in touch,” the King of Hell promised before vanishing as quickly as he appeared. 

“Cas, a word?” Dean walked into the hall but the angel remained unmoved, hovering near you and Sam.

“Out here, Cas,” Dean snapped. His concerned friend let out a pensive sigh before leaving you in to the care of Sam.

A curtain of brown, sandalwood scented hair swept across your nose, causing your lashes to flitter. The aroma coasted a smile across your lips. Breathing in the scent reminded you of roasting marshmallows and hot toddies. Of poorly quoted poetry and laughter next to a fireplace. Of flashlight battles and mason jars filled with lightning bugs. Being snuggled under a strong jawline, tucked into a solid chest, and wrapped in a plush fleece blanket. “Sam,” you whispered, eyes finally focusing on a pair of worried hazel eyes. “Hi,” your grin erased his stressed expression. 

“Hey, Y/n,” his dimpled smile extinguished the remainder of your distress.

“Sam,” holding his smiling gaze, he held you a little tighter than before.

“Hmmm,” his answer vibrated in his chest, sending a comforting wave throughout your core.

“Why am I here?” Your arms curved around his neck, “Why did Castiel say again?” His back tensed, “Why… How well do you know me? I mean, why do I feel as though I can trust you?” You licked your dry lips. Sam’s blithe dimpled grin disappeared and his brow knitted, “And why aren’t you being honest with me?” His worry lines were back and his lips drew in a tight line. 

Sam blinked a couple of times and his mouth opened but no words were said. “Sam,” you pleaded.

“Y/n,” he paused and you gave him time to speak again “I…. I can’t, I”

“Sam, put me down,” you sighed.

The younger Winchester placed your feet next to his and your legs threatened to spill you across the dirty floor. You took three wobbly steps before your knees hit the ground, sending Sam to your side. Brushing his hands away you planted your feet and rose your body in defiance. I'll be damned if I stick around here and continue to participate in the charade, you thought.

“Y/n, hey, let me” Sam started.

Unable to find the appropriate words, you cut him off with your hands. Turning your back to Sam’s puppy dog expression tore at your insides, but you needed to get out of there and away from them. You made your way out of the dusty room before smacking into his brother. The force of Dean’s muscular body colliding into your fragile balance sent you seeking stability in his powerful thighs. Your fingers worked their way upwards, gripping his hips as you planted your feet. “Oh sweetheart, don’t start anything you can’t”

“Don’t,” you gritted through clenched teeth, “I am not your sweetheart.”

Dean gave you his wolfish grin and you huffed passed him.

“Y/n, where are you going?” the azure eyed angel studied your movements. “To get some air,” you called over your shoulders. As soon as the weight of their watchful eyes strayed from your back, you sprinted to the black impala.

Sam joined his friend and his brother in the hallway, the Winchester eyed Cas. “What’s goin’ on Cas?” Dean questioned the angel, whose focus seemed troubled. “I don’t understand,” his forehead creased, “Dean, why does y/n need your keys to get air?” 

“Dean?” Sam warned but his brother chuckled. “My keys are here.” The older Winchester patted his pockets before removing them.  “Sonofabitch,” he yelled, clutching the chained whistle as Baby roared to life. The trio made it to the exit in time to witness the impala peel away from the curb, tires squealing. Sam chuckled and Dean forcible threw the whistle at him, “We won’t have to worry about anything killing her, because I am.”

Sam caught the whistle and smile down at it, “You’re not.” 

Dean walked passed his brother, “I will.”

Sam grinned, “You can’t.”

Dean turned on his heels, “Sammy, she stole Baby!”

“Yea, and how many times has that happened now?” Sam’s laughter continued, “I forgot how cunning she is.” His thoughts wandered to nights when you bested him in scrabble and the lazy mornings when you would whisper the crossword answers in his ear. And the times that you’d breeze into a room solving their hunting dilemma with a wink and a smile. Sam’s eyes crinkled in the corners and his dimpled grin beamed. “What!” He challenged his brother’s glare.

“Don’t start,” Dean shook his head.

“What?” Sam innocently shrugged at his older brother.

 “Every time y/n comes into our world, you allow her to sweep you off of your feet.” Dean saw a flicker of pain in his younger brother’s eyes, “Then when she leaves,” Dean paused, and Sam’s face morphed, matching his hazel eyes. “You’re like a kicked puppy, Sammy,” the older Winchester finished to his brother’s fleeing back. 

“This time will be different,” Dean called to his brother and Sam stopped walking. “How so?” he turned to his brother. “Because, I’m gonna kill her Sammy.” Dean strolled pass him and Sam’s lips lifted, “Right.”

The two walked side by side for a few paces before they felt Cas’ hands on their shoulders. “Cas a little warning next time.” Dean snapped after their scenery changed from abandon buildings to the bunker’s war room. “Thanks Cas,” Sam slapped the angels back and gave his brother a chastising look. The angel sighed, “You’re welcome Sam,” and he retreated to the library.

_________________________

 

“Dude are you still waiting out here? It’s been five hours.”

“Where else would I be Sammy?” Dean refilled his whiskey, “Baby is out there, God knows where, with someone who doesn’t remember who she is.”

Sam’s chuckle was cut short by the clank of the bunker’s door. Dean’s agitated frame raised slowly from his chair, “Give me my fucking keys,” he demanded before you could reach the first step. “We need to talk first,” you quipped and you could’ve sworn you heard a legit growl escape Dean’s throat. Okay maybe I should stop while I’m ahead you thought…. Nah. You were sick of his shit, so you moseyed down the metal stairs. Only to be greeted by Dean’s toned figure. “Dean if I didn’t know any better, I’d say”

“Can it, you” he clipped, his emerald eyes darkened, there was nowhere to go, his domineering gaze bore into your (e/c) eyes. “Keys. Now!” his deep voice caused your heart to skip a beat. Whoa you thought, that’s new. “Nah, I think I’ll keep them a bit longer. Maybe I’ll take him for a spin after dinner.” You smiled, wow, now that was definitely a growl. Glance over his shoulders your eyes meet an amused Sam, “Hi Sam,” you waved. He grinned and waved quickly, before being caught by his pissed off brother. Dean’s eyes returned to yours. “Y/n,” Dean warned but you couldn’t help yourself. “Yes sir,” you closed the space between the two of you, now you stood toe to toe.

Leather, gun powder, whiskey, and apple pie. “How was the pie? I hope you saved me a slice?” You smile brightly at his scowling face.

Dean took in a deep breath before answering, “Keys.” You lowered several octaves to match his tenor voice, “No,” you replied with one word.

“Okay y/n enough, please give Dean his keys,” Sam interjected still smirking at you. “Fine,” you rolled your eyes then gently placed his keys into his open palm, “Happy?” You chirped.

“Move,” he growled, again. Smiling you shuffled your feet to the left, “I’ll make it look like an accident” the angry Winchester grumbled when he passed, and you giggled, watching his bowed legs take the steps two at a time. Once the bunker door slammed shut, you walk over to the still seated Sam. Sitting on the table in front of him, you place your feet in his chair. Leaning forward, your elbows rested on your knees and your hands propped your chin, “So, how was your day?” You grinned at his dimpled smile.

“Why do you always antagonize him that way?” Sam chortled. His playful words quashed your cheerful mood. Realizing his mistake, he blurted, “Hey, what would you like for dinner? We can go out if you like.” 

“What?” For just one moment you allowed yourself to forget. To not think about your lack of memories, you simply acting on instinct. And at that moment, it told you to be a huge pain in Dean’s perfectly sculpted ass. Now you were back at square one, with many unanswered questions. “What,” You repeated, but it came out much softer than you intended it to be. Sam leapt to his feet but you kicked his chair back blocking his escape “What,” you said for the third time, blinking at Sam’s puppy dog look. “Sam,” you whispered and he sat down, the chair scrape against the floor as he moved closer. Removing your trembling fingers from your lips, he enclosed your hands in his. “Y/n, listen to me,” and your eyes lifted to his, “Read the books around here, they might help jog your memory.” You nodded quickly, “Okay, okay.”

He stood and released your hands. When he leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips lingered and he inhaled your hair, “It’s all up here, you just have to unlock it.” You closed your eyes in hopes of trapping your tears, you nodded, too afraid to trust your voice. Your stomach rumbled and Sam smiled against your forehead, “I’ll get dinner started.”

He was at the doorway when you finally found the courage to speak, “Sam,” he stopped unwilling to fully face you. He spoke before you could, “Did you copy the key?” His crestfallen face lifted with yours and you smirked, “Yea, I did.” He huffed giving you a half grin.

“Sam,” you called his name again, but the doorway was empty. How did he know I would make a copy? Why did I make a copy? There's no way in hell Dean would trust me near his baby again. Your thoughts drowned by Sam’s kitchen sounds. Wow, is he always this noisy? You asked yourself out loud.

And you knew the answer was yes.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've read this chapter too many times. It sounds right, then it sounds wrong, if you find any grammatical errors let me know. I'll be pouring over this again, I'm sure.


	5. What else do you know about me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluffiest of fluff, just fluff everywhere.

While pacing the bunker’s library, you thumbed through any book that caught your eyes. “It’s all up here, you just have to unlock it,” Sam’s calming whisper soothed your anxiety. A second from throwing in the towel, a gray leather journal half hidden by the sofa stilled your feet. Walking over, you kneeled, picked it up, and skimmed the pages. Sam really does have beautiful handwriting, you thought. This time you didn’t criticize yourself for knowing that the journal belonged to Sam, instead, you flipped through the pages. “Y/n,” Sam’s voice rang through the vent, causing you to jumped, and the journal tumbled from your grasp.

“Yea,” you yelled after clutching your chest. “Dinner is almost ready,” you glanced at the opened book and your response vanished in your throat. You’re breath deepened, your body swayed and your lashes fought to close. 

**_May 14, 2009_ **

**_Y/n is dead, and it’s my fault._**      

“(Y/n)!”

“Y/n, did you hear me?” Sam’s calls went unanswered, you struggled in vain to make sense of the two lines on the page. “Y/n?” the urgency in his tone snapped you from your daze. “Yea” you managed to croak. “Are you okay? I said dinner is almost ready.” Answer you demanded of yourself, if you don’t he’ll come looking for you. “I’m fine.” Lie, “I’m not hungry,” lie. You silently cursed yourself at the sound of his long strides coming your way. Still stunned from those two lines, you darted back and forth like an indecisive squirrel. “Y/n/n where are you?”

Jesus, think dammit. “I’m in here” you answered, as you snatched the worn book from the floor and tucked it in the back of your pants. Okay, because that’s not fucking obvious you chastised yourself. Your eyes landed on the figure taking up the entire doorway. “Hey what’s up?”

“Nothing, nothings up. Why, what’s up with you?” you stammered and he smiled at your sudden awkwardness. “Right,” leaning his statuesque frame against the open door, with his arms folded across his chest. “You know you can’t fool me, I’ll always know when you’re lying.” Your mouth gaped but you struggled to find the right words, ready to confess your invasion of his privacy. “Sam, I”

“Y/n I heard your stomach, I know your hungry. And I know this,” Sam uncrossed his arms and motioned the air. “It can’t be easy for you. So there’s no reason to lie.”  You watched as Sam failed to put his massive hands in the pockets of his jeans and right on cue your treacherous tummy betrayed you. You both chuckled, him at your stomach, and you at his pocket fumble. “Come on, let’s eat,” you closed the space between the two of you and Sam led you down the corridor. His long warm fingers smoothed across your shoulder blades, caressing your collarbone, and his thumb made large circles on the base of your neck. Closing your (e/c) eyes, you sighed and melted into his side. Pulling you closer, Sam kissed the crown of your head and mumbled. It sounded something like “I’ve missed you” or so you thought. But that was enough to remind you of the stashed journal, “Sam,” pulling away you could read the fear in his eyes. “Can I wash up before dinner?” your eyes watched as relieve washed over his hazel orbs. “Yea. Sure, of course. I’ll meet you in the war room?” His sentence sounded more like a question, and his brow was full of worry. “Yes, give me three minutes, tops,” you promised and he relaxed with an “Okay.” Before going the way he came.           

You waited until he was out of sight before turning and walking to your room. Yep, you knew you had a room, and exactly where it was. But now wasn't the time to overthink. Shutting the door you pulled the book from your pants and placed it under your pillow. This is such an invasion of privacy, Sam will hate me, your thoughts yelled. Eyes downcast, you avoided your reflection and quickly washed your hands. After turning another corner, you paused, and shook your head. Then continued, unwilling to dwell on how you knew the layout of a building you didn't remember. You followed the music that flowed from the war room. I love that song, you thought as you hummed along with the words.

“There you are,” Sam’s dimpled grin made it easy for you to push the puzzle of your existence in their lives to the back of your mind. “I told you three,” you cut yourself off and a wide smile spread across your face. “Wow, Sam. This is. You are. Wow!” He laughed and you soaked it all in. The gorgeous man with a laugh that made your heart smile, standing next to a table covered with all your favorite foods. Food that he made, for you, and it smells A-ma-zing. Unable to think of a single coherent sentence, you quickly crossed the floor and leapt into his arms. No words were spoken, because none were needed as you clung tightly to one another. Sam chuckled and squeezed you a little tighter before releasing you.

“Come on, have a seat, I know you're starving,” he pulled out a chair for you and allowed you to sit first. “When did you have time to get all of this?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Remember your little joyride?” he smirked “Where did you go for five hours?” Amusement littered across his features. Inhaling deeply you began, “Yea about that, I owe Dean an apology, he probably despises me.” Slouched in your chair, your eyes met Sam’s, “It’s not possible for Dean to despise you Y/n. But yea, you probably shouldn’t touch his baby again.” Smiling you tore your gaze away from Sam’s “Well after getting a spare key made,” you shook your head and giggled “God, I am such an asshole,” you mumbled to yourself. “Who does that Sammy? Who steals someone’s car, stops and get a spare key made before taking the long way home?” Answering your own question, you continued. “Apparently me, and I do it so often that you knew to ask. Honestly, I’m shocked I made it back here without getting lost, it’s amazing actually, I don’t even know where here is. Or why I call it home.”

“Because it is your home.” Sam words forced your (e/c) eyes back to his and you swallowed. “Well before coming in, I changed the presets and moved the seat up. Sammy, I barely got out of the front seat, there’s no way Dean didn’t bang his knees.” The two of you laughed and you wiped tears from your cheeks. “He’s gonna kill you.” Sam breathed loudly. “I’d like to see him try,” you giggled. Slowly the mirth leaked from his face, instantly reminding you that your death is a sensitive subject for him. “Sam?” “Hmm?” Putting your fork down, you leaned forward, and twiddled your fingers “What else do you know about me?” And just like that his hazel eyes lifted with his mood.

“I know that when you’re nervous, you fidget with your fingers, like now,” he pointed to your hands. And you placed your palms flat against your thighs, before meeting his eyes. “I know that when you’re uncomfortable, you wrap your arms around your stomach,” clearing his throat, he pointed at your midsection, where your arms were hugging. Dropping your hands back to your thighs, “Okay, that’s not cool.” Sam interrupted “I know that you don’t like to let people see you cry. So you wait until you think no one is around. Or you’ll avoid eye contact by hugging.” “Sam,” you started only to be interrupted again. “I know that when you are afraid or when your feelings are hurt, you raise your head higher, we call it your stubborn chin.” “We?” you unknowingly tilted your head higher, annoyed that they talk about you. Sam grinned, “Dean, Cas and myself. It’s adorable.” Your arms snaked around your stomach before you could stop them, huffing in frustration you placed your hands back on your legs.

“I know that you love stormy weather and being caught in the rain. That you enjoy star gazing. That you’ll lose a day reading, whenever you get a new book. That after a few drinks,” his dimpled smile appeared, “You get uncontrollably amorous.” “Samuel,” your hand flew up to cover your face as you both laughed. Peeking through your fingers, “Are you done?” He smirk, bit his bottom lip, and shook his head, “Not even close.” Slouching in your chair, you pulled your shirt over your blushing smile. “I know that you are extremely ticklish, but only when you’re in the mood to laugh, it’s like you have a switch or something. I know your favorite color, songs, TV shows, hobbies, seasons, holidays.” Sam waved to the table, “I know your favorite foods.” You smiled, but before you could speak he continued. “I know that you love cuddling but not initiating it, from fear of rejection.”  Shaking your head, your (e/c) eyes left his and found a spot on the wall. This was all too much, you thought. “I know it’s hard for you to maintain eye contact when you’re feeling exposed, when a moment is too intimate for you.”

“Sam,” he was doing it again, calling you out while you’re in the act. Reaching over the table, Sam’s hands stroked your left forearm, and his hands brushed down to your palm. The fingers from his right hand entwined with yours, while his other hand lifted your sleeve, revealing a deep angry scar. A scar, you hadn’t notice until now. “And this” his fingers softly graze your inner wrist. Your lashes lifted, studying his hazel eyes. You wanted to ask him if he was in love with you, but knowing you couldn’t handle the answer, you swallowed it. Licking your lips, you whispered his name, his breathing hitched and he closed his eyes. This was way too much for me, you thought, a sensory overload. “This scar,” you couldn’t let him finish. “Sam,” you breathe, but it was too late, he placed a hot kiss on the inside of your wrist, and your eyes fluttered closed.

Both Sam and Y/n were engulfed in each other. So much so that neither heard Dean’s arrival. Although it didn’t help that he came in through the garage. He stood watching his brother and his best friend. No one could simultaneously enrage and entertain him like she could, he thought.  

When your lashes lifted you noticed Dean standing in the door way. “Sam,” you murmured, pulling your hand from his and into your lap. Instantly, you regretted breaking contact and missed his touch. Sam’s head dropped and a curtain of brown hair shielded his pained features. “Dean, Hi,” you mustered up a voice. Sam’s eyes met yours before he turned to his brother, “Hey man, dinner is on the stove?”  

     


	6. Marco Polo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running late. But I had to get this out and saved. I'll catch my mistakes later, hopefully.

Dean avoided eye contact with you as he made his way to the kitchen and you nudged Sam’s knee with your foot. You opened your mouth but wasn’t unable to get a word out, “Not yet,” Dean snapped. You smiled, waiting until after his brother was out of earshot before falling into a fit of laughter with Sam. “For the record,” Dean poked the upper half of his body out of the door. You and Sam swallowed your giggles, and Dean continued, “I don’t miss this.” He made a trail with his finger that connected you to Sam, “It’s fucking annoying.” Then he was gone, making noises in the kitchen.

You tensed under the green eyed hunter’s glare, all of your humor evaporated with his exit. Sam’s squeezed your fingers and your eyes left the spot where Dean was standing. “It’s fine Sammy, I’m okay,” lie. You blinked rapidly, more confused by the sudden change in your feelings than the weight of his words and eyes. “So yea, you guys know me and I have some weird amnesia. What can I do, right?” Not waiting for him to react you continued your ramble. “Besides, this meal, was amazing and I will gladly forget it, if it meant a do over.” You plastered the best faux smile you could manage and your eyes landed everywhere but at Sam’s empathic hazel orbs. You didn’t have to look at him to know that if you did, you would no longer be fine.

Sam nodded and released your fingers, “Do you have room or dessert?” He sat back in his chair. “Why Sam, what did you make?” Your vision was slightly blurred from the thin layer of unshed tears trapped in your ducts. But his dimpled smile was remarkable, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. “It’s a surprise,” he smirk. “Oh look at you,” you simpered. “Mr. Perfect, sweeping the girl off her feet. Be warned Sammy, I will not make this easy for you.” Sam pushed his chair back and stood “You never do,” he winked and walked away, leaving you to beam in private. I’m never leaving you thought, giggling quietly.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Dean licked his fingers between piling his plate. “Getting dessert, why?” Sam paused waiting for his brother’s answer. “Out there, what are you doing out there?” Dean muffled while chewing. “Dean.” Sam turned, giving his brother his back while he collected plates. “Look Sammy, I get it. You don’t know how long y/n be around and want to make the best of your time. But you know she can’t stay and you know what it does to you,” Dean hesitated, “when she leaves.” “Yea Dean, I do, so what?” he faced his brother. “So what?” Dean repeated, but Sam ignored him.

“Would you prefer I behaved like you? Treat y/n like she’s a nuisance? A burden, make her feel unwelcomed and unwanted?” Dean shook his head, “I haven’t,” but Sam cut him short. “You have Dean, hell, you’re doing it now. And I know it kills you as much as it kills me. But why not enjoy every moment with y/n/n? Instead of missing her when she’s gone?” Sam clutched the dessert plates in his hand. “Sammy, I can’t pretend like I don’t know death isn't waiting around the corner for y/n.” Dean looked at his brother, eyes full of regret, “I can’t.” “Dean,” Sam exhaled, “I’ve held her, watched her die in my arms. Knowing damn well there was nothing I could do to save her.” Dean shook his head, “Three times, Sammy,” pain flashed in his eyes. Sam lowered his eyes, “I know, I was there. But that wasn’t her Dean, those were monsters.” “Yea, well it didn’t make it any easier.”

“Samuel” you called, interrupting. Dean’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh. So we’re there now, are we?” Sam chuckled and grabbed utensils. “What’s next Samuel?” Dean mocked, “Acroyoga? Bedtime stories?” Sam’s smile faded, “Remember when you tried? When you didn’t shut her out? I do.” Sam grabbed your surprise and left his brother to stew. Dean’s jaw ticked at his brother’s words and memories he tried to avoid flooded his thoughts. With his appetite long gone, he slammed his plate, and it shattered under the force.

“Hey is everything okay?” You asked Sam as he sat down. The melancholy of his eyes clashed with his dimpled smile, “Everything is great,” seeing the concern on your face, “Really, Y/n it is.” The door flew open hard enough to rip it from its hinges. You jumped, not so much from the sound or action, but at the sight of Dean. He looked wrought with grief. Sam didn’t turn to face the commotion. Instead his eyes never left your face, he knew dinner was over.

“Dean. Hey,” you caught his arm as he barreled past you and his brother, “What’s wrong?” He looked down at your hand grasping his forearm, and you released him. “Nothing,” he started walking, but you grabbed him again. You don’t know why, you just had to, “Where are you going?” This time Dean’s green orbs bore into yours. Letting his arm go, you felt the pressure of both the Winchesters studying you. You wanted to dart your (e/c) from his but instead you stood with aplomb and it gave you the extra kick of confidence you desperately needed. You no longer wanted to cower beneath his stare. “For a walk,” he answered over his shoulder. “Wait, I’ll come with you.” You replied to his back, moving quickly, you caught his pace. Dean turned on his heels and you were nose to nose with him, “No, no. You’re staying put, with Sammy. Got it?” Nodding your head in defeat “Alright,” you said barely above a whisper.

Dean stalked up the metal stairs and the door slammed behind him. Glancing back at Sam you scoffed, “Did he really think that would work? Seriously, does it usually work on people?” Sam chortled, “Yea, everyone but you,” he grinned. “Wow, dude is all broody and bossy,” you said as you climbed the stair after him. “Goodnight Sammy,” you stopped at the top, “Dinner was amazing. You’re amazing.” Sam ran his fingers through his brown hair, placing a few strands behind his ear. “See you in the morning (Y/n)” The door clanged shut, “Give him hell,” Sam spoke to himself as he cleared the table.

Once the bunker’s door creaked open, you saw Dean pacing, and thought well that’s some walk. Before you could quietly shut it, the iron door slammed loudly, and you swore under your breath. Dean’s movement halted midstride, his shoulder slumped, “Y/n.” He said your name, not turning because he knew it was you. “I can’t do this with you right now,” his voice was deep and demanding. “Oh okay,” you chirped “I guess you’ll have to suck it up then. Huh? Cupcake, and put on your big boy pants while you’re at it. Because I’m not going anywhere.” Your sarcasm sent his long gait in the opposite direction. “Dean come on,” you yelled following your urge to trail behind him, “Tell me what I did wrong.” He didn’t stop moving, “You didn’t do anything, Y/n, go back inside.” You didn’t understand your need to make things right for the green eyed brooder. And at that moment, it didn’t matter, you chased after his heavy steps. “Are you sure? You sure seemed pissed to me. Tell me Dean, are you having a bad day or is it me. ” The brisk strides and yelling made you pant a little. “Because, I’m more than happy to leave,” lie, it would crush you.

Dean stopped walking and his entire body turned, “What did you say?” You swallowed and your chin rose, “I said,” thinking about your words. You would not be happy. “I will leave,” you paused again, watching your unsteady breath hang in the chilly air. “If you don’t want me here, say it. And I’ll gladly disappear,” lie. “Really,” he challenged. Wait, yep he’s coming back, you gulped down the uneasiness, and your arms snuggled tightly around your stomach. Dean moved swiftly covering the fallen leaves that separated you two. Seeing determination on his features, you thought uh-oh, abort. Abort. But it was too late. “This is what you want right?” His voice was low and intimating. Your thoughts swirled and you stepped backwards. Not out of fear but because of the sudden change, no longer was he avoiding you.

 

For each step you took, he gained two, until he was inches away. You placed your hands on his chest, unsure if it was to stop his advancement, or to give your courage balance. “Dean, why are you doing this?” you hated how small and shaky your voice was. “Why are you, Y/n? The two of you stared into each other’s eyes. You could feel the tension beneath your fingers. Then it all clicked, well some of it. “You’re not pissed with me, are you? You’re mad at yourself. Right?” He exhaled into your face and tore his eyes from yours. “But why, Dean?” He shook his head, “Don’t, you have no idea what you’re pulling at.” You ducked your head to capture his eyes, “Well tell me, because I’m not going anywhere.” He scoffed, and you spoke again, “You can’t tell me, and neither can Sammy.” Your thoughts drifted to him and his journal. 

**_May 14, 2009_ **

**_(Y/n) is dead, and it’s my fault._ **

You must have zoned out longer than you realized, because you were coasted back by Dean repeating your name. His eyes search your (e/c) ones, “Hey, where did you go?” Dean’s expression soften, now clouded with concern. A lazy smile crept across your lips when you noticed your hands never left his pecs. “You’re firm, very toned,” your fingers trailed up and you kneaded his shoulders. “Knock it off,” Dean swatted your hands away and the concern dissipated. A familiar look you couldn’t place returned, was it amusement or annoyance. Before you could began to dissect it, Dean’s left hand cradled the back of your neck, and he pulled you into his chest. His right arm curved around your back, enclosing you in a snug embrace. And for the first time, since meeting earlier this morning, you felt at peace in his presence. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said, his chin resting on the top of your head. You nodded quickly, “Okay,” you smiled and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be swept away into your feelings.

The two of you stood there, until a shiver worked throughout your body. “You’re cold, here, take my jacket,” he said peeling away one of his many layers. “We should head back,” and he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. Dean swiveled your body with his and led you back toward the bunker, after a few steps he tucked you into his side, and planted a tender kiss on your right temple. Your fingers caught the faint warmth, remembrance of his soft lips. He kissed that exact same spot earlier today, when he apologized for being a dick. And yea sure he wasn’t pleasant, but it felt as though he was sorry for so much more. “You’re the worst, you know that right?” Dean’s baritone voice invaded your etch-a-sketch of memories. “Yea, but you love it,” you really wanted to say me. You knew he did, but how? How do I know he loves me as much, if not more than I love him? That you’d give your life for him, that you had. How could you know for certain things that were uncertain?

No longer wishing to be consumed by your thoughts, lack of memories and feelings for this man, you decided to distract yourself. You know, laugh to keep from crying. “Okay, so you can’t tell me certain things, for whatever reason. But can I asked you something?” You stopped walking but he took a couple of steps, then turned to face you, “Sure, shoot.” Your eyes roamed as you studied his short dark blond hair. His tanned skin. The freckles that dusted his straight nose and cheeks. You took note at how they stood out more in the sunlight. The lashes that framed his emerald eyes, his eyes. His full deep bowed lips that hid his perfect teeth. “Do you promise to be honesty?” Dean’s jaw tensed, damn this man is fucking beautiful, but you silenced those thoughts. “Absolutely,” he took in a deep breath and your eyes flickered between his eyes and lips.

“Have we ever,” you made an imaginary line between you and him. “You know,” waggling your eyebrows. “What is wrong with you?” He spun on his heels, “Is everything a joke to you?” You skipped, catching up to him, “No, of course not,” but you were unable to suppress your smile as you jumped in his path. “So I take it this is a touchy subject for you then.” He brushed passed you and you followed, squelching your giggles. “Why are you sensitive about it? Is it your stamina?” “My stamina is fine, thank you.” “Okay, well do you lack,” you pursed your lips, “Imagination?” “I can assure you, there would be no dull moments with me.” You had him right where you wanted him, you could feel the agitation rolling off of him. “Oh my God Dean,” you gasped and his feet came to an abrupt stop, his brow knitted, and his hands stilled on your shoulder. Searching your (e/c) eyes, “What’s wrong?” His annoyance eased. “I am so sorry,” “What are you talking about Y/n?” “Is it difficult to get up?” He rolled his eyes and let his head fall backwards, before poking you hard near your collarbone. You squeaked and covered the vulnerable area. “I do not like you,” he clipped and you giggled. “What is it then Dean, tell me,” you pouted, “please.”  He groaned then moved you out of his way. “Is it?” you nudged his side with your pinky before waving it close to his face. “Oh sweetheart, while there are many reasons this,” Dean made the same imaginary line you did, “Won’t happen, and none of them have to do with” “Tiny, itsy bitsy Dean,” finishing his sentence with a smirk, and showing a small amount of space between your thumb and index.

“Oh that’s it,” Dean’s voice rumbled through the air, and he closed the few feet that separated you from him. “Dean,” you stumbled over both your words and your feet as you backed away, “What are you doing?” Your voice sounded shrilled and panicked. “You’ll see,” he arched an eyebrow and his fingers lifted his shirt. “You wouldn’t,” came out more like a plea than an order. “Y/n I will,” you couldn’t take your eyes from his waist band, “And I am,” he promised. “Dean. No,” but it was too late, his belt was unbuckled. He gave you a wolfish smirk but you didn’t notice, your wide eyes remained fixed on his pants. “Dean. Stop it, okay, I get it” his fingers worked the stiff zipper down. “Are you ready,” he teased and licked his lips. “Dean,” your mind screamed NO, you bolted, and ran toward the bunker. “Come back, y/n. I have something to show you,” he yelled and you giggled loudly, which made it hard to put distance between you and him.

Giving up you darted off the path and took cover behind a tree. You fought to quiet your breaths and listened to his calculated steps. He was an expert, and you felt as though you were being hunted. The lack of sound from his movement sent chills down your spine. You knew there was no way you can hide much longer from him. “Marco,” he shouted, “Polo,” you replied. Clamping your hands over your lips, you mouthed what the fuck to yourself. Why did I, why would I answer him? Your thoughts were interrupted by his deep velvety tone, “Oh Sweetheart, don’t beat yourself up.” He was closer than you thought, “You could never resist a good game of,” he paused. “Marco,” he yelled. “Polo,” you whispered underneath your hands, still stifling your lips. While you couldn’t win his game of cat and mouse, you knew you could out run him. Thank you high school soccer and college track and field, you thought, and gathered your legs beneath you. “Marco!” you could hear the grin on his lips. “Polo,” you hushed your giggle, eyes focused on the bunker’s door.

Rising from a crouched position, you ran as fast as your legs could carrying you. Zagging through trees, you leapt over stumps and small brushes. “Damn y/n I forgot how fast you are,” slowing you looked over your shoulders. Noticing that Dean’s jeans and belt were fasten, you decided to turn the tables. You pick the perfect place to hide, “Hey, y/n, where’d you go?” This time you were able to control your breathing. Besides the falling of his heavy boots and the occasional bird calls, it was eerily silent. His steps picked up, no longer careful of the noise he created, “Kid, this isn’t funny.” He sounded slightly panicked, and part of you felt a twinge of guilt. “Y/n” he echoed through the trees, he was a few feet from you know. “BOO!” you yelled loudly, hopping in front of the worried hunter. And it all happened too fast to stop, his large fist, and your failed attempt to duck. You landed flat on your ass, “Jesus Y/n, why the fuck would you, what were you thinking?” He fell to his knees. “Ow, what the hell Dean!” you shouted into his face. “Let me see,” he tried to pry our fingers from your hairline. “You punched me!”

Your eyes brimmed with tear. “I mostly missed you,” trying to lighten the mood, he gave you an uncomfortable half smirk. “Don’t. Dean,” you shoved him away, “Please, let me see Y/n.” You knew it wasn’t intentional, but that didn’t stop the pain. Unable to take the plea of his green eyes, you lowered your hand, and noticed the tint of crimson on your fingertips. “It’s not that bad, barely noticeable,” he assured you, he stood, and pulled you up along with him. “Let's ice it,” he said. You brushed his hands away with the leaves and twigs, “I’m fine,” lie. Needing to get away from him, you stormed towards the bunker’s door, and left him there yelling your name.

Sam was a third of the way up the metal steps when the heavy door slammed behind you. “I thought you were going to bed,” smiling weakly, you let strands of hair fall into your face, and hoped it was enough coverage. “I heard,” he paused, examining you. “Why were you two yelling?” He questioned, following you down the stairs. “Y/n is everything okay?” Suddenly he was before you. “Yep,” you answered quickly, “I just want to lay down.” You slid past him but his towering body pivoted, his hand brushed the hair from your face, and his jaw ticked. “What Happened?” His voice was low and scary. The calm and gentleness of his features morphed, he looked as though he was prepared for battle. “Huh?” You stepped back looking for an exit, but you were trapped.

There wasn’t a way to avoid his domineering stance, his lips drew tight, and his eyes darkened. Okay he was just as terrifying if not more than his brother, your thoughts were broke by his words. “I said.” He paused, “What happened?” You shrugged your shoulders, unsure how to answer that question. What could you say? That I goaded Dean, he threatened to show me his dick, so I ran, then hid, then jumped out to scare him only to get clocked in the face. Your thoughts rambled, yea that’ll go over well. “Y/n” Sam gave you his classic impatient glare. “What happened to your face?” “Oh this?” Faking laughter, you tried to walk away again, only to have Sam grab your arm, and whip you around. “Dean punched me,” you blurted and internally face palmed. “He what?” Sam’s expression was unreadable. “Accidentally. He accidentally hit me. It’s fine. I’m fine. In fact, it’s a funny story. I swear you’ll laugh.” Sam’s orbs peered through you, yep, this is exactly what you didn’t want.

“Where is he?” He growled. The bunker’s door opened and shut. Your eyes searched Sam’s but his were locked on his brother’s. Before you could acknowledge Dean, you found yourself sandwiched in a Winchester’s standoff. “Y/n, you should go to your room,” Dean’s words warmed your neck and you fought against a shiver. Turning to object your removal of whatever this is was cut short, once you noticed how his gaze bore into Sam’s. “Sam,” you looked to the younger brother, hoping he’d back you up. “Listen to Dean.” Tears of frustration pricked your ducts, “Fine,” you did as told, and left the brothers to their staring duel. Once the door to your room banged shut, the weight of your day crashed down.                                      


	7. It's only a dream, right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't you like to know how your day began, you know before nearly dying and being possessed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month since my last update and this chapter didn't quite go as I originally planned. But I think I am okay with that. I hope you enjoy.

You were awakened by an alarmingly blue eyed, dark haired, suit and coat wearing man towering over your bed. Before you were able to react, he pressed two long fingers to your forehead and everything faded. The next time you slipped into consciousness, it was a lot slower. First you heard heavy, angry steps pacing in the distance. The constant thudding was paired with whispered shouting. Next was the clashing of fresh dirt, cinnamon, bourbon, and an ocean breeze. Your mind struggled to place those three scents, and why you found them so comforting. You felt the weight of someone’s stare, along with a barely there graze on your cheek. Instead of shrinking away, you leaned into the calloused fingertips. “Sam, you’re being creepy,” one of the hushed angry voices warned, ending the soothing caress. 

“Hi,” you sighed when your eyes focused on a pair of hazel irises. “Hey,” Hazel Eyes sounded relieved, “My name is.” But you didn’t let him, “You’re Sam.” His eyes widened, “Y- You, Do you remember me?” You couldn’t force your lips to answer and after watching you blink, he repeated his question. Knowing it would dash his hopes, you regrettably shook your head, and watched joy leak from his features. Unable to take his kicked puppy expression any longer, “But you were being creepy, right? Watching me sleep,” you smirked. His lips lifted and his eyes returned to yours, a nervous chuckled coupled with a dimpled smiled was your reward. “Yea, umm, sorry about that,” Sam brushed his brown shoulder length hair behind his ears.

“Finally, you’re awake, now let’s get this show on the road.” You tore your gaze from the man seating next to you and took in the baritone intruder. “C’mon Sammy, she’s awake, let’s go.”  Your (e/c) eyes darted between men. “Dean, don’t,” Sam’s lids were screwed shut and his brow furrowed. “What, you said you wanted to wait until she was awake, there she’s awake. Now. Let’s. Go.” Part of you wanted to hide behind the seated calm man but the defiant part of you was sick of the ill-tempered man’s tone. Then it dawned on you, you were so wrapped up in the ease of Sam’s presence that logic evaded you. You didn’t know where you were, or these two men. This must be a dream. “Sam,” you leaned into his side, “Who is that?” You whispered. “Oh c’mon,” we don’t have time for this,” exasperation rolled off the big grumpy man. Sam’s large hand tenderly brushed your shoulders, “Hey, are you okay?”  “No,” you shook your head, “I’m definitely not okay.”

“That’s my brother Dean, he’s,” Sam’s voice trailed off. But you needed him to finish, he’s what? Short tempered, rude, indifferent, cold. “He’s what? Sam,” you probed him but he never answered, which was probably for the best. The man was unsettlingly tense.

“Hi Dean,” you offered your hand "I'm y/n". The agitated man mumbled “Yea, hey,” without making eye contact and refused to take your hand, instead he turned on his heels to leave. “Sammy, let’s go!” Okay that’s it, “Dude what’s your fucking problem?” The bravado in your voice shocked you and you felt Sam’s spine straighten. The bowed legged man stopped and faced you, his eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” Now or never, you thought, now or never, if I don’t stand up for myself now, then he’ll continue this.  So you stood, “I said,” you spoke slowly, enunciating each word, “What’s your fucking problem?”

Sam expelled a gust of air but you ignored him, you were not backing down. Dean stalked towards you, not to be outdone, you covered a few feet, meeting him. “Huh, so what your problem Green Eyes?” For the first time since his arrival, you had his undivided attention. He took the final step closing the gap between the two of you. His deep breaths washed over you and the mixture of cinnamon and bourbon softened your annoyance. Cutting your eyes away to check your watch, “It’s a bit early to be drinking,” your eyes returned to his. He scoffed, looked passed you towards his brother, then turned to leave.

“Oh no, don’t leave, I thought we had something special,” you whined to his back. “Listen here Sweetheart,” he was once again barreling towards you. “I am not your Sweetheart, you ass,” the words gritted through your wickedly placed smile. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, from both of you,” Sam stood between you and his brother. And for the first time you noticed his sheer size, “Jesus, you’re huge.” Dean rolled his eyes, “He’s not that big.” Peering from behind Sam’s broad shoulders, “Don’t worry, I know you’re a big boy too,” you grinned sweetly. “Oh I’ve had it with you,” Dean attempted to move his brother. “Have you big boy?” You tried to help Dean get to you. “Stop. It! Seriously, do you two even know why you’re fighting?” Sam pushed you both apart. You snapped, “He started it,” and the exact same time Dean said, “She started it.” Sam closed his eyes and took in a couple deep breaths, “Right, well now it over,” he chastised.

“Dean, a word,” Sam's timbre was even, he gave you a half smile, “We’ll be right out here,” he promised. As soon as the door shut you hurried to it, you needed answers. Why are you here? Why are you calm? Then you remembered, Sam’s soothing earthy scent, Dean’s spiciness, but what was the last calming note? “The ocean breeze,” you mumbled to yourself, unwilling to face whatever made the fluttering sound behind you, “Hello y/n,” a gravelly voice greeted your back.

Nope not turning around, you thought as you walked closer to the door. Then there he was, the dark haired, cobalt eyed, suit, and coat wearing man. The man that appeared above your bed and abducted you. “No, no, no,” you whimpered. “I’m not here to harm you, I’m here to check on you. My name is Castiel and I’m an angel.” Your rapidly beating heart and jagged breaths lulled. “You’re my angel?” Your hand lifted and you poked his sinewy chest. “Yes, that is what you prefer to call me.” He tilted his head, his blue orbs studying yours. “My angel,” you breathed “You’re my angel.” Cas’ eyes narrowed “I thought we’ve established that, (y/n) maybe you should sit.” You nodded, “You’re my ocean breeze.” The last thing you saw was your angel’s half smile and azure eyes.

This time around your consciousness slapped you in the face, “Cas, man what did you do?” Dean repeatedly tapped your face, “Hey y/n Sweetheart, you gotta wake up for me.” You groan, “Please stop touching me, and I am not your sweetheart.” And as quickly as Dean’s affection for you appeared, it disappeared. He stood and walked away leaving you to stand on your own. Sam walked behind you with a cold towel, “Hey, what happened?” you shivered as the towel cooled your neck. “I don’t know, it’s been a long ass day.” Dean scoffed, “It’s only 8am.” “Yea and you’re on drink number what?” Dean took a step towards you, and you mimicked his action. “Guys, come on, enough!” Sam bellowed. And you both mutter your apologies. “Where my angel?” searching the room, your eyes landed on Dean. “He had some Heaven business to take care of.”

“Well, when will he be back?”

“Hell if I know, he doesn’t live in my ass.”

Sam shook his head, “Please, don’t start again.” And with that you let your comment die on your lips. “Okay well you’re not leaving me here locked in some room.”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Dean’s brow lifted.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was,” crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m kidnapped from my bed and you think I don’t have questions?” The brothers stood in front of you. “Will someone please tell me why I was abducted?”

“Oh stop it, no one kidnapped you.” Dean irritated tone grated on your nerves, “So I’m free to go then?” You walked to the opened door only to have it slam shut. Turning on your heel, “This is illegal, you can’t keep me here.” Sam was quiet as you stood toe to toe with Dean, “Look Sweeth- I mean Y/n, you can’t come with us, it’s dangerous. We won’t be gone long and if you promise to stay put, we won’t need to lock you in a room.” For once, Dean’s tone wasn’t condescending. “I’m sorry but you’re not locking me anywhere.” He closed his eyes, “Sammy can I speak with you in the hall?” Sam passed you, and immediately something felt off, “We’ll be back, I promise.” The door slammed shut and locked before you could reach it. “Dammit, open the fucking door!” You yelled, banging loudly.

After a few minutes you gave up and slid down the door. Then you felt it, a breeze through the vent on the door. You figured it was wide enough to fit through. After searching the room, you didn’t find anything to unscrew the latch. Defeated you rubbed your hands over your face, wait my rings you thought. One is bound to fit, you tried each ring against the slot. Down to your final ring, you closed your eyes, sent a silent pray, and kissed it for added measures. “YES!” it fit, keeping a steady hand, you unscrewed each screw, and removed the metal cover. You wormed your way through the passage in the door, “almost,” you murmured to yourself. “Shit,” you glanced down at your hips, gritting your teeth, you forced your way through. “Tada,” you beamed, bolting to your feet, in a gymnast landing pose.

“Dean, maybe we should check on her. I don’t like locking her in the room, and we don’t know how long this will take.”

“What’s the alternative? Bringing her with us? Not gonna happen Sammy.”

You could hear their voices getting closer, but you had no intentions of hiding or running. This is exactly where you wanted to be. Perched on the top of the iron stairs, waiting with your cat ate the canary smirk.

“Oh you have gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dean growled as his foot touched the bottom step. “What?” Sam was on his heels, amusement quickly replaced his concerned expression. “Hi,” your grin widen with Sam’s, “Hey,” he replied. Dean stomped up the stair, “Not a word, let’s go.” You stood and he passed you, your smile matched Sam’s dimpled one. “How?” You shrugged your shoulders, “A magician never tells,” you hushed with your index finger over your lips. Sam chuckled, then placed a hand on your hip to nudge you out of the door. The sudden pressure caused you to wince, “Wait, what was that?” Lifting the hem of your shirt, Sam uncovered long, raised scratches. “Y/n, what did you do?” he searched your (e/c) eyes.

“Oh this, it’s nothing, really,” you were unable to avert your eyes.

“Y/n you’re bleeding”

“Barely, I’m fine Sam.”

“Move it you two,” Dean barked, breaking your trance with the taller brother.

“Please Sam, don’t make me stay, I swear I’m fine.”

“Okay, but this isn’t over, and you need to keep it clean.”

Nodding your head, you agreed, grateful that for now he dropped the subject.

The car ride felt like something you’ve done thousands of times. Sitting in the back seat of a classic car, old school rock playing, and Sam talking about the small vamp nest you were heading to. You took in all of the information, then sat back and enjoyed the breeze from the opened window. “You don’t seem too worried back there,” Dean interrupted your humming. “Hmm, why should I be?” The brothers shared a glance and you continued to hum along with Don’t Look Back by Boston. Then you thought about it, why worry over a dream, right. That’s the only thing that makes sense here. You’ve been kidnapped by three aesthetically pleasing men, one of which claims to be an angel. And now they’re taking you to hunt vampires. This should be interesting you thought, wondering how far your imagination would lead you tonight.

“So this is it,” you questioned from the backseat. Everything seem so much simpler, now that you’ve accepted that this was only a dream. “Alright, let’s go hunt some vamps,” you hopped out the car. Dean handed you a machete, “Wow this is heavier than I imagine, and it feels real.”

“Alright killer, sit down, let’s go over the plan one more time,” Dean opened the back door and the odd feeling from before washed over you. Dean grabbed your wrist and clamped an open handcuff tightly around it, “Okay Houdini, let’s see ya get outta that,” he chuckled at his joke. “Dean, come on,” Sam warned his gloating brother. “What? Why? I thought we were a team,” You whined. “We are and you’re in charge of this backseat, now sit down and shut it,” Dean demanded. Your eyes met Sam’s and he kneeled, “Hey you’re helping, you’ll be our lookout, okay.” Taking a deep breath, “Fine, I’ll be the lookout,” you accepted your fate. “But must I be cuffed?” Sam opened his mouth but was cut off by his brother.

“After that stunt you pulled? You’re lucky your ass ain’t in the trunk.”

“Dean,” Sam rubbed your knees, “We wouldn’t put you in the trunk.”

“Sammy wouldn’t, but I would,” Dean didn’t look at you as he gathered his arsenal.

“But what if I need to protect myself?”

“Use the machete,” again Dean cut his brother off.

“What if I need to tell you something? You know, as said lookout?”

“Here”, Dean threw a chained silver whistle, “Nice.” He winked after you caught it.

“So, you’re really leaving me here?”

Sam nodded, giving you a tight smile, “I’m sorry, but”

“I’m not, let’s go Sammy, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we’ll be back on the road.”

Sam shut the backdoor, “We’ll be right out,” he said patting the roof.

Slouching down in your seat, you closed your eyes, “I can’t stay here,” you huffed to yourself. There has to be something back here you thought, right before a paper clip caught your eye. It must have fallen from Sam’s file. Snatching it up, you kissed it, then held it high, “Thank you.”

15 minutes later

The movies make it look quite easy you thought, as you continually failed to reclaim your freedom.  Then suddenly the metal clasp gave, and you gasped, “Oh yea, this is one hell of a dream.” While rubbing your wrist, you heard voices, and practically laid on the impala’s floor to get out of sight. After the voices passed, you peeked over the impala's backdoor. Five, you counted five unaccounted and unexpected vampires. I have to warn them you thought, as you exited the backseat. I’ll pop in, blow my whistle, then run back here, you assured yourself.

Once inside, you saw Sam cornered without his machete, and reflexes you weren’t aware of took over. In one swift fluid movement, your machete decapitated the vampire standing over him. “Whoa, that was sick,” you smiled down at the hunter. Sam’s face contorted from relief to terror, “NO!” he yelled. Your spine stiffened and you sliced through the air, the second vamp’s head tumbled from its neck. “Y/n,” Sam’s hazel eyes were clouded with sorrow. “Sam,” you breathed, your grip on the machete slipped and your weapon clattered to the floor. Your fingers skimmed your waist, collecting warm wetness. Pulling your hands away from your side, your eyes widen. Crimson covered your wrist and palms, dripping down to your fingertips, and pooling around your feet. In a blink Sam had you cradled in his arms, “This isn’t a dream,” you whispered.

“Hey y/n look at me, we’ll get you help.” Your lashes weighed your lids as you struggled to focus on a pair of multi colored eyes. “I’ll get you help” the agony consuming his voice broke your frantic heart with each beat. Your eyes never left his face, for fear, that if you stopped studying his features you’d drift away. So instead, you took inventory of the handsome man holding you together.

 

There was stubble that outlined his sharp ticking jaw, “I’m here, hang on.” His pained dimpled smile “There you are.” Your (e/c) eyes captured his, and you allowed yourself to follow the pattern of greens, browns and flecks of gold. His straight nose, his long chestnut hair hiding his brow.

 

There was a faint THUD followed by an echoed “Sam!” and heavy footsteps. “In here, we’re in here!” his words vibrated through his chest, lulling your lids. “Y/n” the unexpected call snapped your eyes back to his. “See, you hear that y/n, Dean is coming. We’ll get you out of here.” His soft lips brushed your forehead as he whispered his promise.

 

“Shit, Sammy.” The heavy footsteps came to an abrupt stop.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“OhmyGodIdied,” you struggled to inhale, pacing your room.

 “I was kidnapped,” your breath came out ragged.

 “I killed vampires,” you wheezed, “Vampires are real,” you gasped “And I-”

“Demons are real,”

“I was possessed by a demon, the King of H-” the room whirled around you, “I- I”

“There’s a King of Hell, and he knows me,” your hands were anchored to your knees.

You exhaled, but couldn’t drag any air through your lungs, “I died.”

Raising your shirt, to smooth skin sent you over the edge. Your breathing was shallow and harsh, more air went out than in.

Okay, it’s happening, you thought as your lungs ached for air and your room began to spin. Then you smelled it, the ocean.

 

“Y/n” the husky voice was back.

                       

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, standing in front of you. A hopeless fangirl, with her fingers crossed. Hoping you enjoyed my wicked thoughts.  
> Please comment your thoughts, send me kudos, share, bookmark... enjoy!  
> Ps. This is my first fanfic, have pity :)  
> Chapter One of idk yet.


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